


If You're a Local Band

by leavemewiththerazor



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Drinking, Grammy, M/M, drunk Tyler is drunk, grammies, josh takes care of him again, tyler is sensitive, tyler's instagram
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 04:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11501541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leavemewiththerazor/pseuds/leavemewiththerazor
Summary: "Y'wanna know what one-a them said?""What, Tyler?""It said... 'if yurra local band, k-yurself.""You're slurring. If you're a local band, then what?""Kill yurself.""Tyler, don't listen to that. It's just bathroom graffiti. It's all bullshit.""Life's bullshit."--Tyler is drunk and upset by some graffiti.Inspired by Tyler's first post on instagram.





	If You're a Local Band

Tyler unzips his pants and aims at the urinal. His eyes wander idly at the graffiti on the wall in front of him. They stop on one message: if you're a local band.... kill yourself.   
How kind, Tyler thinks. As if I needed encouragement.   
He zips his pants back up and washed his hands. In the mirror, he can see deep, dark purple circles under his eyes and two days' worth of stubble on his chin.   
I look how I feel. Like shit.   
Tyler pushes the bathroom door open walks back into the bar, sits on the stool beside Josh.  
Josh is holding a brown bottle in his hand, and he takes a long swig of it before looking over at Tyler. "Wanna do more shots?"  
Tyler knows that he should say no. Tyler knows that he's had too many to count already, and that he should stop now. But the draw of being numb, of the buzzing warmth of alcohol tempts him towards another direction. "Sure."  
Josh holds up two fingers and looks at the bartender. "Another round, please."  
Two small glasses filled with brown liquid are placed between the two boys, and they take them in their hands, clink them together, drink them down. It sends shivers through Tyler's body. "How about another?"  
The bartender nods and fills up the glasses. Tyler throws it back without waiting for Josh.   
"God, Tyler," he laughs. "You trying to kill your liver or something?"  
Tyler shrugs. "You gonna drink yours?"  
Josh looks at the shot glass in front of him. "Nah," He pushes it towards the other boy. "I think I'll just finish up my beer."  
"Suit yourself." Tyler braces himself for the bitter taste and, without another thought, empties the glass. "There's lots of graffiti in the bathroom."  
Josh laughs. "Well, it is a bar."  
"True," Tyler says. Everything is starting to get fuzzy. Warm. "Have you read any of it?"  
"Any of what?"  
"The graffiti."  
"Oh. No, but I can imagine it's all a load of shit. Girls' phone numbers and 'so-and-so's a whore' and whatnot.  
"Y'wanna know what one-a them said?"  
"What, Tyler?"  
"It said... 'if yurra local band, k-yurself."  
"You're slurring. If you're a local band, then what?"  
"Kill yurself."  
"Tyler, don't listen to that. It's just bathroom graffiti. It's all bullshit."  
"Life's bullshit."  
"Don't say that, Tyler. You're just drunk."  
The room is spinning around Tyler, and he rubs his face. It's numb.   
"Do you want to go home?"  
"Nuhh."  
"Huh?"  
"Nuh uh. One more."  
Josh laughs, nervous. "Tyler you've had enough, I think. Come on, let's get a cab." Josh stands up and pulls Tyler up by his arm.   
"Joshy's no funnn."  
Josh ignores him and, with an arm around the other boy, walks outside.   
The air is cold, and Tyler thinks how good it feels on his face. Part of him wants to take his shoes off and walk around barefoot. His feet are so hot.   
Josh holds a hand up, facing the street. Within seconds, a yellow car pulls up beside them on the street. Josh holds the door open for Tyler and helps him into the seat. "Scoot over," he says, and then gets in.   
The driver looks at Josh through the rear view mirror. "Where to?"  
"The corner of fifty-third and seventh. Please."  
The car starts moving. Tyler thinks that the heat must be on in the car. It is very hot.   
"Can we crack-a winnow?"  
"It's practically below zero, Tyler."  
Tyler starts to take his shoes off.   
"Tyler, what are you doing?"  
"My feet're hot, Joshy," Tyler whines.   
Josh sighs, amused and frustrated at the same time. He puts a hand on Tyler's, stopping him from pulling off his untied shoe. "Let's wait until we get home, alright?"  
"But Joshua."  
"I think you had a little bit too much to drink, Ty."  
Tyler huffs and looks out the window. The city is moving by quickly outside - too quickly for Tyler's muddied brain. The lights blur together into a constant stream of silver and red. It's too much. He closes his eyes.   
If you're a local band, kill yourself.   
"Why'd annybuddy write that, Joshy?"  
"Write what? Are you still on about that graffiti?"  
"Hnnh."  
"Huh?"  
"Mhmm."  
"Maybe they really don't like small bands. They probably listen to sellouts exclusively," Josh tries with a smile.  
Tyler pouts. " 'm seriuss. Don' make fun."  
"Tyler - "  
"We're-a local band, Joshy." Tyler feels something wet on his cheeks. He reaches up with a few of his fingers and touches them to his face.   
Oh, he thinks. I'm crying.  
"Sometimes when people say things like that it's because they're angry or sad, Tyler. Not at you and me, at the world."  
"Why?"  
"Maybe the person who wrote that was in a local band too. And things just didn't work out for them. So they don't want things to work out for anybody else."  
"Oh."   
Josh leans over to retie Tyler's shoe. Tyler rests his head against the window. It is cold and he likes that. He closes his eyes. When he opens them again, they are in the driveway of his and Josh's house, and Josh is tugging gently at his arm. "Come on, sleepyhead. I'll help you inside."   
Tyler's footsteps on the cement are wobbly and uncertain. The alcohol has all but numbed his legs. They feel like foreign objects to him - alien from his body. Then again, the feeling of alienation isn't new to him.  
Josh walks him up the steps to the porch and opens the door for him. Tyler steps inside. The house is dark, quiet. He walks a few steps forward and squints at the clock on the kitchen: 3:42.   
"Josh?"  
Josh closes the front door behind him. "Yeah, Ty?"  
" 's-almost four."   
Josh smiles, the corners of his mouth crinkling. "I know it is."  
"Cannwe talk?"  
"You want to talk now? Aren't you tired, Ty?"  
Tyler stumbles into the living room and sits on the sofa. "Not tired... nummmm."  
"Numb?"  
Tyler nods.   
"Why, Tyler?"  
He shrugs.   
"You've been sad lately."  
He nods again.  
Josh sits beside Tyler and puts a hand on his knee. "So what if we fail?"  
"Hnnh?"  
"So what if we fail, Tyler? You're scared of not making it big? You're scared our music isn't good enough? So what? At least we tried. And had fun doing it."  
"Don' wanna fail."  
"Me neither. But so what if we do?"  
"Only wanna do music."  
"Me too, Tyler. I don't have a plan B. That's why we keep doing what we're doing. Making music. Staying true to ourselves. Be a local band at heart no matter what. If we do all that we'll make it big. Arena shows or not."  
"Mm."  
"Let's get you in bed, Tyler."  
"Mm."  
Josh stands up and helps the other boy to his feet. Hunched over, Tyler drags his feet all the way to his room, supported by Josh's arms. He collapses in bed, and Josh lifts the covers, pulls them over Tyler.  
"Thansss."  
"What, Tyler?"  
"Thanksss."  
Josh pats him on the shoulder. "No problem." He turns and walks to the doorway, shuts off the light. Standing there for a moment, he turns back around. "Tyler, I'll bet you anything we'll winning Grammies a few years from now."  
Tyler rustles under the sheets. "If we do, you havvta go up on stage without pants."  
Josh laughs. "Deal. We'll both do it. Shake on it?"  
"C'mere."  
Josh walks back to Tyler's bed and holds out his hand and Tyler takes it in his own. They shake.


End file.
